Addicted2Girls
Alison Tyler, Melody Jordan Pic(s)
The fading evening light painted golden stripes across the floorboards, catching in the dust motes that danced between their silent forms. She hadn’t meant to reach out, but her fingers found the soft cotton of her friend’s sleeve, the contact sending a quiet jolt up her arm. A breath hitched, not her own, and then a palm was pressing agat her cheek, calloused and warm, turning her face gently. The world narrowed to the space between their lips, a charged inch filled with the scent of shared shampoo and nervous anticipation. When the distance finally vanished, the kiss was not a question but a slow, deliberate answer to everything left unspoken for months. It tasted of mint tea and the sweet vulnerability of surrender, a languid exploration that made her knees feel weak. Her hands slid from sleeves to the small of a back, pulling their bodies flush, feeling the steady, accelerating heartbeat thrumming agat her own chest. The gentle pressure of a thigh between her legs was an unspoken promise, a friction that ignited a deep, smoldering heat low in her belly. In that hushed room, surrounded by the familiar clutter of their life, a new, thrilling intimacy bloomed, as natural and inevitable as the dusk settling outside their window.
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